


Psychomanteum

by sarisel



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarisel/pseuds/sarisel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan wrestles with a shadow of a doubt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Psychomanteum

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless smut. Features badly mangled Japanese, all of which is my fault. Though legal in a galaxy far, far away, Anakin is under eighteen. However, he is not involved in any sexual acts.

"Sure you'll be all right, Master?"

"Please--it's only a mirror." Obi-wan slipped free of his cloak, and it pooled on the marble floor in a great puddle of chocolate-colored wool. The tiles weren't cold beneath his bare feet, but neither were they soft. Thankfully their hosts had left a silken nest of pillows for his extended sit. 

Anakin jutted his chin in the direction of the smoking brazier. "Smells… funky."

"Will it put your mind at ease if I promise not to inhale?"

Anakin frowned, still blocking the doorway.

"You're being quite unreasonable," Obi-Wan chided, but his words held no ire. He paused in undressing long enough to squeeze Anakin's shoulders with both hands. The youth was nearly as tall as he was now, perhaps even a little taller. Decorative beads glittered in his padawan braid, the plait itself like a golden rope. Kohl darkened his eyelids, another gift from the Engoku.

Obi-Wan did not let his fingers linger.

"You're going to be naked," Anakin continued. 

"I shall leave on my leggings," Obi-Wan replied, though both of them knew he lied. The Engoku had demanded complete nudity. 

Anakin's frown deepened. "Naked and they took your _saber._ "

"You have a point, but you'll be right down the hall."

"Surrounded by dignitaries."

"Some of which are very pretty."

"You're doing this whether I like it or not, aren't you?" His frown had very nearly become a pout.

"Mmmm," Obi-Wan said, noncommittally. Somewhere along the line, he had begun to sound like Qui-Gon. He loosened his belt, and it landed on his cloak an instant later, followed by his tunics, splaying beige over brown. The air was warmer than he thought it would be, somehow soothing to the skin. "We don't even know what _this_ is."

Anakin huffed. "Superstitious hokum, that's what."

Obi-Wan waited, silent.

Anakin watched him from the threshold a moment longer, brow furrowed, and then spun on his heel. His padawan braid slapped against his neck as he strode down the corridor. The door of the mediation chamber slammed behind him, jerked shut with the Force.

Obi-Wan sighed. He shed his leggings and settled cross-legged on the pillows in the lotus-position the Engoku required. Blasted hard on the knees, yet customs had to be followed. Otherwise their hosts would never trust him. At this point, he would do whatever was necessary to bring negotiations to a close. If they needed him to streak nude through the halls, fine. The mission had gone on far too long already.

Of course, he would never admit his frustration to Anakin. Nor would Obi-Wan mention that the mirror disturbed him, just a touch.

Polished black stone stretched along the entire west wall of the room, flawless in every way, reflecting each rise and fall of his chest. The light of the brazier gilded his flesh, dusted his chest with whorls of red-gold hair. His cock slept against his thigh like the member of a relaxed ghost. After all, wasn't that what he was supposed to commune with--a spirit? 

Maybe Anakin was right. This was ridiculous.

"You're in love with him."

Obi-Wan blinked. His reflection smiled, the corners of its lips curling faintly upward. His own mouth had not moved. None of him had moved, yet his mirror-self sat in a different position now, its head canted slightly to the left. The reflection dipped its head as if acknowledging Obi-Wan's realization, and Obi-Wan gasped aloud. He shook his head hard to clear it. The incense _was_ funky. It had to be. 

"Smoke-dream or not, I asked you a question. And I'd prefer if you didn't refer to me as 'it,' thank you." 

Obi-Wan backed away like a crab, yet his reflection remained in place. "What are you?"

"The Engoku call me _Kage no Nozomi,_ but I believe you know my name."

"Your name?"

His reflection's left eyebrow rose in an expression Obi-Wan knew far too well. He had felt it on his own face often, normally directed at Anakin. 

Obi-Wan gaped. "No. No, I do not think I can call you that."

"Mmmm. If names bother you so, shall we discuss the boy instead?"

"He isn't a boy--"

"Certainly he isn't a girl."

"You know what I mean!"

The reflection's smile widened. "A _man_ , then."

"A _young_ man--"

"Ah! Thus the real reason for your hesitation."

Obi-Wan glowered.

The reflection's smile faded, but did not disappear altogether. "Don't look at me like that. You know as well as I do that the Order does not insist upon celibacy. Attachment is the true issue."

"I know that," Obi-Wan snapped. He could not help it.

"So you are already attached," the reflection murmured, voice softening. "Why have you not let it go into the Force?"

Obi-Wan dropped his eyes, suddenly unable to meet the mirror's gaze. His hands locked together in his lap, trying to cover a nakedness that had nothing to do with his lack of clothing. "I do not have to answer to a ghost."

"The Engoku did not say you would be speaking to a ghost, Obi-Wan; they said you would be speaking to a _shade_. Is the brazier not behind you? Does your own darkness not fall on the glass?"

"I've studied psychology," Obi-Wan mumbled, still not looking up. "I know what you are."

"Of course you do. I've already told you: I am Kage no Nozomi."

"My Engoku is not that good. Kage means shadow or--"

"--or reflection. I am _Kage no Nozomi_ , reflection of desire."

Obi-Wan's hands rose from his lap, reaching for throbbing temples, but something barred his way. His head snapped up. His twin had leaned forward, arms extended. Within the glass, his reflection's fingers writhed on empty air, but Obi-Wan felt them dance over his cheeks and up into his hair line. The touch was solid, no less real than his.

Obi-Wan moaned. He knew he was high--most likely _very, very_ high--but he could not stop himself from relaxing. His tension eased with every circle the invisible fingers drew.

The reflection bent closer, and Obi-Wan felt the heat of skin against skin, the friction of one lightly-furred chest brushing another. Another set of thighs straddled his own. "Do you love him?"

"Yes. No. I…" Obi-Wan trailed off. Strong hands gripped his shoulders as he had gripped Anakin's, kneading in time with the rhythm of Obi-Wan's breath. "I know I want to love him. I know I want something more."

"More?" the reflection asked, even as it leaned him back.

"I had a brother. Older, I think." He could not understand why he was speaking of this. He never had before, not with Qui-Gon, not with Anakin, not with anyone. 

"By moments, perhaps. Owen was as much your twin as I." 

"They took me, not him. He might be a farmer now, or a merchant." Obi-Wan swallowed, his mouth gone dry. Unseen lips pressed kisses into his collarbone, their beard grazing his jugular. A breath later, a tongue writhed in the hollow of his throat. It left heat and wetness in its wake. 

"Is Owen's life the 'more' you want?"

"I..."

"Perhaps it is not Anakin's manhood you question, but your own." 

Though sprawled in the pillows, out of the mirror's line of sight, Obi-Wan felt the heaviness of the reflection's blue stare. He felt the nearness of that body, impossible to see and yet surely poised over his, braced on its hands, waiting. He felt a groin against his, a cock hot against his own. He felt it pulse with need.

"Force," Obi-Wan groaned. That was the only explanation of this. His drugged, psychic mind worked his own flesh.

Atop him, ghostly thighs spread wider. Ethereal fingers closed over him and guided him into place. Obi-Wan knew it should not be like this, so easy. There should be a wince of pain, a small cry. Instead there was nothing but a slow slide into eager tightness and a whimper for more.

Obi-Wan flung back his head. His reflection bent, and chest met chest. A sweat-damp forehead pressed into the hollow of his shoulder. "Force," Obi-Wan said again, and this time it was a prayer. 

The reflection's hips began to roll. "No matter what else we are, we are always men."

_"Nozomi."_ The word leaked from between clenched teeth. Still Obi-Wan had not moved. 

_"Desire,"_ his lover repeated in Basic. "Could that be your name instead of mine?" 

Obi-Wan grasped at air turned solid. His lover shuddered in response.

"Nozomi," Obi-Wan said again, and began to thrust.

Body clung to body, mouth clung to mouth. Pelvis met pelvis languidly, then faster. Panting, Obi-Wan shoved a hand between them, taking hold of his lover with quick, firm strokes. Teeth nipped his earlobe in appreciation, and then broke away. Heat sprayed Obi-Wan's belly, invisible and yet somehow there. The feel of it, the clench about him—it took Obi-Wan over the edge. He came, shooting into clutching nothingness, his lips crushed to the Nozomi's, muffling their bliss.

How long they held each other afterward, Obi-Wan did not know. Not long enough; his breath remained ragged when his lover rolled away. At least Nozomi did not roll far, curling into Obi-Wan's side, his hair a spill over Obi-Wan's stomach. Obi-Wan tried to stroke it, but his fingertips brushed only his own skin, rapidly cooling.

The brazier's smoke had grown thin, the room dim. He sat up, gazing into the glass. His reflection had become as vague as the weight resting against him.

"Will I see you again?" Obi-Wan asked. 

Once more that faint smile bloomed. "Every time you look in a mirror."

"You know what I mean," he said, more harshly than intended. Obi-Wan's throat ached, suddenly tight for reasons he did not entirely understand.

A single finger traced spirals around one of his nipples, then the other. His reflection drew spirals in empty air. "Every time you admit to a desire, then."

Very nearly, Obi-Wan tried to touch his lover. Nearly. Instead, his hand balled into a shaking fist and fell to the floor.

Darkness drifted across his twin's face. "I shall admit it for you, if you cannot. I shall admit it for us both."

Obi-Wan said nothing.

His reflection shifted, and they were in the exact same position again. "Really, isn't that the first step to truly having something--admitting that you want it?"

Obi-Wan inhaled deeply.

"Do you want me?"

"Y-yes," he stuttered. 

His reflection nodded. "Just as I want you. And the boy? That _young_ man?"

"Yes." The second time he said it, Obi-Wan's voice did not tremble.

Kage no Nozomi, also known as _Kage no Kenobi_ , brought his hands together and bowed his head over them in blessing. "You should go to him."

Obi-Wan found his own head nodding, too, his fingers pressed together in the same way. 

"But sleep is needed, I think," the reflection said, his words barely audible now, "and then food. That smoke leaves you a little hungry, don't you agree?"

Obi-Wan laughed. He could not help it. He came to his hands and knees and crawled toward the mirror.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking what I want," Obi-Wan breathed, and pressed his mouth to the glass.

So light it might have been imagined, lips moved against his. Then there was only silence and sinking to the tiles again. Later there would be Anakin, and explanations. Most certainly confessions. 

But for now there was only peace.

 

[END]


End file.
